0 Orange Peel

You throw peels of oranges at me, laughing in the
bright sun
Coming closer you kiss me with sticky lips, wanting me, casually, with ease of a confident cat, ever coming
closer


Dare I cover the distance between us? Isn’t it there
as a gaping hole, a warning, keeping us sane, safe and
unsatisfied?


I show you my heart, bloody as it is, in partitions,
waiting to be assembled you laugh showing me that
even the orange can be put together---one only has to
know where the pieces go
You say my heart is as tight and right as fruit,
waiting to pour out its juice, its life into your
parched mouth,

I watch you chew slowly,
showing me how you savor my gift---
I can see you do know how to eat


Breathless, I gasp would I sate you forever? Would you
thirst for different fruit, different juice do you
digest, only to be hungry again and again? But perhaps
I am that monster as well, traveling through life as
if everything was on a menu

To be ordered

I sigh and eat the orange as well, taking the offering
you give freely, wishing I could stay here in this
warm moment with you rather than always rushing headlong & fearful into the next

--Michelle L., 42